


Ms. Pantene and Mr. Calvin Klein

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Bromance, Crack Treated Seriously, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Len and Jax and The Girls Have Coffee, M/M, Mick and Len are Competitive Criminal Children, Multi, Platonic Cuddling, Secret Relationship, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6532159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len is going to find out who put kale in Mick's fridge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ms. Pantene and Mr. Calvin Klein

**Author's Note:**

> This got out of hand, and definitely silly. I have no excuse.
> 
> I'm experimenting with killerwave. I hope you guys like it!

Sleeping next to Mick Rory is an acquired taste. Like many seasoned criminals, he can get up and at ‘em in a second, but if there’s nothing to burn, he’s out like a light. When that happens, he has no concept of “restful.” He’ll smack your face or roll right on top of you and won’t move unless you either kick him in the balls or he moves again. He doesn’t snore, but he’ll have no qualms breathing open-mouthed in your ear. Lisa tried sleeping next to him once. She ended up wrestling into her brother’s bed with a few choice words.

If given the choice, Len would pick that spot next to Mick every time. He always claims to despise the heat to keep up the Cold image, but at the end of the day he’s only human. No matter how much he prefers snow over sun, he likes being warm. Mick has a tendency to overheat, sure. Contrary to popular belief, though, he doesn’t feel like a fuckin’ volcano unless you pile the sheets on thick. Mick is also human, after all. Together, they create a nice balance in temperature.

Then there’s the fact that Mick doesn’t bother stationary sleepers as much. Just like when he’s awake, he needs a steady influence or he’s restless and itching for a fight. After years of growing up learning to avoid waking his dad with any kind of noise, Len sleeps stock-still. So when he opens his eyes, Mick’s either on the other side of the bed or curled around him. Len enjoys the solid warmth of his friend either way.

Mick probably doesn’t know that last part. Still, he never protests when they end up crashing in the same place and Len chooses to share. This time it’s at Mick’s apartment after another scrape with the Flash. They got away with their loot, so fuck yeah they’ll chug a few beers and plan out what they’re gonna do with their spoils until they end up sleeping next to each other. As usual, they don’t say good night.

Len wakes to Mick plastered against his back. He dozes for a while longer, indulging, before yanking Mick’s arm off and trudging to the shower. Mick mumbles and rolls over; by the time Len’s opening the bathroom door, he’s spread eagle on his stomach. He’ll wake up when the water starts running.

Which turns out to be a good thing, because the moment Len pulls back the shower curtain, he has many, many questions.

For there, sitting on the tiny shelf, is a white bottle of Pantene shampoo. As if that’s not enough, grouped with it are the matching conditioner and an orange bottle of Herbal Essences body wash.

Len blinks once. Twice.

Turns the shower on. Hears Mick stir in a rustling of sheets.

After a moment’s consideration, Len decides to shower first and insinuate later. Besides, he knows Lisa uses Dove.

 

Mick’s chomping on cereal when Len ventures into the front room. He’d brushed his teeth during Len’s shower, but Len has yet to make a single comment. Now, though—now it’s free game.

“So,” he drawls, leaning against the counter, “never thought you’d turn into a salon type.”

“The fuck’re you talkin’ about?” Mick grumbles into his Frosted Flakes. Len bites back the urge to chastise him about talking with his mouth full.

“Pantene and Herbal Essences?”

Yet Mick looks completely unbothered. In fact, he’s smirking at Len.

He says, “Just like you got some pretty Calvin Klein, huh Snart?” Len stiffens. “Yeah. Thought so.”

Len shoves off the counter. “I hope you got some decent food this time.”

He nearly gapes when he opens the fridge.

Instead of expired shit crammed between endless packs of beer, Len sees wonders like apples, eggs, avocado, _kale_ —shoved in the front’s the beer, but. But.

But.

“Gonna let all the cold out, Lenny. Get your kicks on someone else’s ice.”

Len practically slams the door shut. He grabs a bagel from a contai—holy shit Mick has bagels. Mick has _blueberry bagels_.

Bagels. Kale. Pantene.

Behind him, Mick teases, “Snart, you don’t look so good.”

Len swallows. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Mick.”

He needs a name. No, not just a name—Len needs an entire background, medical history, an address, phone numbers, and the secret to how the fuck they got Mick “whaddayah mean there’s more than one kind ‘a lettuce” Rory allowing kale into his home.

Keeping his cool through breakfast isn’t a challenge, despite his astonishment knocking around his head. Len knows his goal; all he has to do is plan. Unfortunately, as long as Mick’s holding that Calvin Klein card, Len’s pinned. He’ll need a crew for this one.

As Mick drops his bowl in the sink, Len calmly takes his phone from his jacket pocket.

>>[7:25] Jitters @ 9?

One, two, three, and four replies. Excellent.

 

After the whole “Legends” business concluded, Len found himself with _friends_. He’s warming up to the idea slowly but surely—though the instant Sara sees him, he doesn’t hesitate to allow her to turn her chair so she can rest her feet on his lap. And Kendra, sitting across the table, doesn’t even bat an eye.

Alright. Maybe he’s grown more used to the idea than he thought.

Lisa slides into the seat next to him with a sly grin. “Well Lenny,” she says, “this is awfully domestic of you.”

“Just wait, sis,” Len tells her.

It’s passed rush hour, but still early enough for a fair amount of people to be occupying the place. Once they’re all gathered, Len will use the customers’ conversation as a cover.

At nine o’clock sharp, Jax enters Jitters. Once he gets his coffee, he takes the seat next to Kendra. It’s time.

Dropping a dramatic line tends to make Len feel better about things. Maybe it’s the power that comes with it. Regardless of the reason, he wraps his hands around his iced Flash and pulls the trigger:

“Mick is in love.”

Terribly exaggerated, of course—at least Len thinks so; Mick’s only loves are fire and destruction.

Then again, Pantene and kale.

Len doesn’t feel better about things.

Meanwhile, Kendra and Jax almost choke, while Sara and Lisa regard Len with a mix of suspicion and amazement.

Jax is the first to ask: “How do you know?”

Telling them what he witnessed brings a strange kind of relief; seeing their sympathetic emotions isn’t as annoying as it should be. So this is why people vent.

When Len’s finished, Lisa breathes, “Kale,” and chugs half her latte in one go.

“What’s their name?” Kendra demands.

Here’s the tricky part. “Couldn’t get one,” Len replies shortly.

As expected, Sara peers at him more closely. “Not even a hint?”

Len quirks his mouth, gives a little one-shouldered shrug. “Mick can shut his trap when he’s got a reason. Statistically speaking, I’d say they’re a female. Judging by the contents of the fridge—” Lisa looks _haunted_ , “—she’s not afraid to go toe to toe with Mick.”

“She’s also got a healthier lifestyle,” Kendra adds.

Lisa recovers enough to smirk and lean against Len’s arm. “Sure it’s not _you_ , Lenny?”

Over the snickering, Len counters, “I would’ve thought it was you, sis. ‘Cept for the shampoo brand, this mystery woman reminds me an awful lot of you.”

Lisa turns murderous. “I don’t eat _kale_ ,” she hisses, “jerk.”

Len snatches a piece of her croissant and says, “Coulda fooled me, train-wreck.”

Before Lisa can go for the eyes, Kendra interrupts with a stern, “ _O_ -kay! How about we focus?” like they’re a couple of unruly chicks in her nest.

Sara turns back to the table, bracing on her elbows. “Let’s see if we can narrow this down. Whoever Mick’s with, it’s obviously serious. He might be able to keep a secret but even hardened criminals can’t cover all their tracks.”

She shoots Len a pointed glance. His eyes narrow on her tiny smirk.

Jax scrunches his face in thought. “Who do we know that can go toe to toe with Heat Wave, is healthy, and female?”

Kendra sighs, “All possible women are sitting here.”

Sara gives her a salacious wink. “And we all know you’re taken.”

“Cool it, birdies,” Len cuts in, “we have one absent candidate.”

“Who?” Lisa asks, genuinely curious.

Although he thinks it’s a stretch, with how this morning’s going Len thinks just about anything’s possible. “Shawna,” he says. “I’ve seen them hang around each other lately. She’s a health nut who’s definitely not one to take Mick’s bullshit.”

“Shawna’s not dating Mick.”

All eyes snap to Lisa. The certainty in her voice pings something in Len’s brotherly instincts.

Jax tilts his head. “Did she tell you?”

Lisa shrugs, “All I know is that she’s seeing someone but it’s definitely not Mick.”

It clicks.

Oh you’ve gotta be—“How long as this been going on?” Len asks through clenched teeth.

Lisa bats her eyelashes. “None of your business, Lenny.”

Sara mutters an “oh fuck” into her mug, trying oh so very hard not to laugh. Len truly appreciates her effort.

“We could—” Kendra stops. When she can talk without practically snorting her coffee, “um, we could always just ask him.”

Not taking his eyes off his baby sister, Len snaps, “I already told you he ain’t telling.”

Lisa doesn’t back down.

Jax, the little grinning bastard, suggests, “We could always ask Ray.”

That gets Len’s attention. “What would Eagle Scout know about it?”

 

“So you and my partner are having _play-dates_ now.”

Ray starts at Len’s voice. He brightens considerably when he sees him. “Hey, Len!”

 _Ugh_. He’s disgustingly adorable.

Len leans against the doorjamb. “Well? Am I right?”

Ray puts his tool on his worktable. “I was gonna tell you when we had lunch!” he exclaims, “I thought it would be better to tell you something like that in person.”

That’s right. Len has _lunches_ now.

He presses a kiss to Ray’s smiling lips.

“When did it happen?” he asks the same time Ray looks around and asks, “How’d you get in here?”

Len smirks, “I memorized your security codes. You left them right out in the open.”

Ray blinks. “Those were in a locked—”

“When did it happen, Raymond?”

Ray huffs. He’s obviously going to bring it up later; for now, the subject of Mick actually _talking_ to _him_ is much more prevalent. “Did you wanna sit down first?”

There are a few rolling chairs in the lab. Considering the cameras have been disabled, Len decides to encourage Ray’s openness.

Ray makes a tiny noise as Len straddles his lap.

Crossing his arms, Len allows his smirk to widen. “Well?” he drawls.

Ray clears his throat. “Well,” he echoes, “uh, I-I was on my way back from lunch yesterday. It was before you two robbed the mayoral candidate,” he glowers there; Len raises his eyebrows, innocent. “I turned the corner and Mick was just _there_. He said we were gonna talk.”

Len flicks his eyes over what parts of him he can see. “Mick tends to lean towards rough-handling,” he nods.

As he’s been doing more often, Ray immediately takes his meaning. “Oh, no, he didn’t drag me anywhere! I mean, he kinda grabbed my arm, but it wasn’t—I didn’t feel threatened.”

Len hums. “And then?”

“He took me to the park of all places—I know,” Ray laughs, “I was surprised too. He was wearing sunglasses and a hat. Looked really weird in a t-shirt.”

“Raymond.”

“Right. So I was sworn to secrecy, and he started talking.”

…and Ray says nothing else.

Len leans forward, until their noses nearly touch. “What did he say?”

But there’s just a shake of the head and a, “Sorry Len,” followed by a two-fingered salute. “Scout’s honor.”

Why does he have to be so—so— _trustworthy_? Sometimes Len thinks on his choices and decides that, given his profession, he should really have another type.

“But!” Len lifts his chin. Ray’s grinning, “Mick _did_ say that I could tell you about _her_.”

…oh?

Len uncrosses his arms, running his hands up Ray’s chest. “Did he now?”

Ray shivers. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Um…he just said that you were gonna crash at his place that night and that if you asked about her afterwards, I could tell you.”

That bastard. He’s _baiting_ Len.

“No.”

“Uh. What?”

If Ray’s arms weren’t already wrapped snug around his waist, Len would be shoving to his feet. But, circumstances being what they are, he merely clenches on Ray’s lab coat—because of course he wears a lab coat, the fucking adorable fuck—and tilts his chin up.

He tells Ray in a steady tone, “Mick wants me to take the easy way so he’ll get one up on me.”

“Get one up on you? How?”

“He knows.”

Ray’s eyes widen. “Oh— _oh_!” He beams, “Does that mean—?”

“If I just let you tell me now and not figure it out like he did, Mick will never let me hear the end of it: the one time he outsmarted me.”

Ray tilts his head. “Um…does that make sense to you guys?”

Len says, “I’ve got enough hints to start, but I can get one more from you. Tell me, Raymond: do I know this woman?”

Ray scrunches his nose. “I mean, if you’re really going to do this, then I don’t think that’s a fair question. I don’t know who you know.”

Hm. True. “Of my and Mick’s _mutual_ acquaintance, then. I’m sure that even if you don’t know her, he’d’ve told you.”

The answer is yes. Ray’s Adam’s apple bobs and his pupils dilate. “Um…yeah.”

“Excellent. It shouldn’t be too—”

Ray surges forward. Len, having expected it, readily accepts the kiss, tilting his head just the way Ray likes. Ray yanks off his latex gloves and runs them under Len’s shirt; they’ve grown cold in the lab, and Len curls into them. They stay like that for forty seconds, brushing their lips together and exchanging slow touches.

That’s the thing about Ray Palmer: he’s not just interested in a quick fuck.

He’s so strange.

Len flicks little kitten licks into his mouth; Ray loves when he does that, especially combined with scrubbing his blunt nails against his scalp. Gets him nice and loose every time. Then, and only then, does Ray make a move for Len’s belt.

“Careful, Raymond,” Len murmurs, “the cameras will come back on in one hundred seconds.”

Ray surprises him by whispering, “Plenty of time for you,” and tearing open his buckle.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

Len will never regret that Calvin Klein in his shower.

 

About an hour after lunch, Jax texts:

_To: Cold, Sara, Kendra, Golden Glider_

>>JAX [14:00] I know who she is.  
>>KENDRA [14:01] who is it?!?!!  
>>JAX [14:02] I can’t tell Cold unless he asks. Mick said something about a game?

Of course.

_To: Mick_

>>LENNY [14:04] you won’t win, Mick.  
>>MICK [14:05] sure, snowflake. sure

 

The day after a job is basically a free day for the Rogues. After the texts, Len finds himself with a free afternoon.

He decides to take a walk around Central City. The familiar streets relax him, a hand job in a lab and fucking Ray surrounded by take-out notwithstanding. As he lets his feet roam where they will, he starts drawing up a mental list.

Let’s see…ruling out sex workers, Lisa (who’s fucking _Shawna Baez_ ), Sara and Kendra (who’re fucking each other), who could she be?

There’s Kiki, one of the bartenders at Saints and Sinners that Mick likes to tip no matter how she behaves. Young thing, but not too young; Mick’s a lotta things, but cradle-robber ain’t one of them. But she’s definitely not one for a steady relationship.

Hannah, an informant clearly taken with Mick. But she clearly enjoyed being bossed around by Mick.

Olive, a semi-regular on their crew pre-Rogues. Len liked her well enough. Didn’t take Mick’s shit, preferred healthy choices whenever she could afford them…but Len’s seen the inside of her tiny hole in the wall; she didn’t have Pantene. Could be a recent switch, though?

Len turns over the possibility in his head. Ultimately he decides against it. If Mick’s not the one who’s keeping it quiet, then she is, and Olive’s not the type for secret relationships.

Hm…

His phone vibrates.

_To: Len_

>>SARA [16:12] I know who it is. Dnt worry about it 2day. Go home & cuddle ur bf

So she _does_ know. Len shouldn’t be surprised.

>>LEN [16:13] I don’t cuddle.

He’s Captain Cold. Who the fuck cuddles when they have a name like Captain Cold?

 

That’s why Ray is going to be a good little Eagle Scout and not say a single fucking word about it.

Ray rubs slow circles up and down Len’s back. As soon as he saw him enter the—Len’s—shit. He might as well. As soon as he saw him enter _their_ apartment, he instantly smiled and patted his chest in invitation. Len went with only mild complaining.

Now here they are, Len quite literally having collapsed on top of Ray, face-planted on his t-shirt and arms spread haphazardly where they landed. It’s so damn comfortable that Palmer better not bring it up.

“It’s okay if you don’t figure it out right away,” Ray murmurs.

No it’s not. The longer Len’s left in the dark, the smugger Mick becomes. Doesn’t matter how long Mick took to figure Calvin Klein out, Len has to know this mystery woman’s name by the end of the week or he’ll be forced to concede.

Leonard Snart does _not_ concede on his home turf.

What he says is, “How sweet of you to care, Raymond.”

Ray makes a discontented noise. “Don’t get all nasal-voice on me, Len.”

Len scoffs quietly, smiling against him. “Habit.”

Satisfied, his friendly octopus rewards him by pulling him closer with all four limbs, tugging him up so his chin’s on Ray’s shoulder instead.

“Can I give you another hint?” Ray asks, all hopeful and sincere.

Fuck. He’s so— _fuck_.

Len nips at his neck. “That’s against the rules.”

“What _rules_? Why does everything have to be a competition with you guys?”

“That’s who we are, Ray.”

Ray huffs. “Just for the record, the nature of this _game_ explains _so much_ of what happened on the Waverider.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t come to terms with it sooner, especially when you were—”

“Let’s not talk about that. Ruins the cuddling mood.”

 _The cuddling_ —? Len sighs.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” _You fucking adorable fuck._

 

Despite being forced into a solo play, Len figures it out the very next day. Screw you, Mick.

Jax, the girls, and Lisa wanted to check on his progress. As he gets in line, Barry Allen and his _entourage_ happen to walk up behind him.

When he drawls, “I’ll take a Flash— _iced_ ,” Cisco gasps like a maiden in an old movie.

The usual glee at seeing Barry puts him in a good mood. “Why hello there,” Len says while he waits, “isn’t _this_ a pleasant surprise?”

“What are you doing here?” Caitlin snaps, low and dangerous. Len will admit there’s more to her than uptight scientist.

“Answer the question, Cold,” Cisco, though? Not so much.

Len gives them a slow grin. “Relax. I’m just here with friends.” That word, when it has sincerity attached to it, still feels strange on his tongue.

Cisco crosses his arms. “Since when do you have _friends_?”

When, indeed. “Ouch. That’s cold, Cisco. And here I thought you were supposed to be a good guy. Ah,” he takes his iced Flash, “ _thank_ you—Jane.”

Jane blushes as Len sweeps back a step, gesturing for the Flash to take his turn. Eyeing him warily, Barry approaches the counter and orders a simple coffee and two sugars, Cisco a foam latte, and Caitlin—

“I’ll take green tea with um…” Caitlin brightens at the overhead menu, “oo! And a kale salad special!” At Cisco and Barry’s looks, she rolls her eyes. “Come on, you guys. Now that we finally have the time, I’d like to at least _try_ to be healthy.”

Len smirks, taking a sip from his mug. Ka—

Kale.

 _Kale_.

Caitlin Snow: is not afraid to go toe to toe with Mick. When Len concentrates, he can definitely detect a special kind of body wash on her. She is icy. Stern. Healthy— _Pantene._

Len chokes on his coffee.

Barry rushes to him, hands hovering incessantly around him. “You alright?” he demands.

But Len, for once, is not paying attention to Barry Allen. He’s fixed his wide eyes on Caitlin, whose shoulders square and expression hardens into a distinct look.

Len has seen that look before: _don’t you say a word._

“Snart?”

Len turns to Barry at last. “Something wrong, Barry?”

“Well—yeah! You were choking!”

Cold’s smirk freezes on Len’s face. “How heroic of you,” he says. Barry’s worry instantly switches to annoyance. “Well. I have my iced Flash,” Cisco mutters something like _for real?_ “And my friends will be waiting for me. Be seeing you.”

Len exits Jitters and opens a new text.

_To: Everyone_

>>LEN [14:22] Caitlin Snow.  
>>MICK [14:25] fuck you, snart  


 

>>SARA [14:26] Ray Palmer  
>>KENDRA [14:27] What???

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
